


What's really going on below

by Cheesecloth



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Nuh uh, i can do that myself, you don't get to make me sad today
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 23:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21382456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesecloth/pseuds/Cheesecloth
Summary: "Rose and the Doctor walk into a bar. Not the same bar of course; they are in different universes."To the person that posted that prompt, you are fully welcome to Fight me.
Relationships: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Minor Twelfth Doctor/Rose Tyler - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34
Collections: Aliens & Time Machines, Author's Faves





	What's really going on below

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [aliens_and_time_machines_prompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/aliens_and_time_machines_prompts) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> (From a Tumblr post that made me cry. It was so long ago that I don't have the URL, sorry.)

Rose and the Doctor walk into a bar. Not the same bar of course; they are in different universes. 

And it would be a cruel joke to play for laughs, but it was actually a rather happy occurrence, for what it was. 

What other reason would Rose and the Doctor simultaneously walk into a bar, in the same place, at the same time, in different universes? They figured out a way, is what they did. 

The three of them. 

The Metacrisis Doctor, Rose, and the original Doctor had figured it out. They lay multidimensional clues for one another and their two Tardises to find. 

And it led Rose to that bar in east London. For where else could time and space stretch so strangely? 

Her Metacrisis lover stayed home to watch after their two children. They talked at length about this. They even had a heart to heart. She was still processing through the grief, and meeting the original Doctor one last time might yet heal them both. After all, the Doctor didn’t have a Rose in his universe. And if she and the one-hearted Doctor loved each other so dearly, so must the original. He must have found another companion. She hoped he did. 

Her own Doctor understood. Their talk extended late into the night and into the morning. She loved him, and did not think of him as a replacement. He was hers, and she was his. And they had two lovely little monsters who were now at the age to run around and cause chaos. They’re just like their mother and father, then. 

The barkeeper paid her no mind after she sat at the stools and asked for four empty glasses, and he left her to attend other patrons once she got them. 

She glanced around but no one was watching. She was in a corner. It was dim and perfect. She snuck out her pouch of special wine. It had to be very, very specific. For this to work, it had to be the right brandy, from the right time, and the right grapes. 

Once each glass was filled with a certain height of the old wine, she wet her finger and played a song. 

Four glasses, sixteen notes. That was all it took, and an apparition appeared beside her, with his own four glasses of wine. It was ghostly, the sight of the Doctor, but she wouldn’t have it any differently. 

As she might have figured, it wasn’t the same face she was used to. He had an older face. It was vaguely Scottish, and his eyebrows were like angry caterpillars. She grinned at him. 

“Hello Doctor,” she whispered, heart full with the sight of him. 

“Hello Rose,” the Doctor said. Yep, he was a Scot. She couldn’t wait to tell her own Doctor. He’d surely have a laugh. Or maybe he’d scoff and get sassy. There was a little bit of Donna in him still, and it made Rose’s heart light to know that her Metacrisis husband was an amalgamation of love. 

“Been a long time, hasn’t it?” 

“Oh, yes.” 

“Missed me?” She couldn’t help but ask. 

There was a grief to his eyes, and it broke her heart. 

“Yes.” 

He may have been an apparition, but he was still very much solid. No temporary multidimensional song rift could change that. So she got her fill of hugging the Doctor tightly. He melted quite easily. 

“How are you doing, Doctor? Got a companion?” 

“No…” 

“What!” She hissed softly, not wanting to alert the other patrons to something they couldn’t possibly believe. 

“I’m getting old, Rose.” 

“You’re always getting old. How old are you now then?” 

“A few thousand years old.” 

“You certainly look it,” she teased gently, a bright sunny smile on her face making the Doctor melt once more. But then he frowned. 

“I look the same age as you?” 

Rose blinked unbelievingly. “Oh Doctor, you can’t possibly think-“ 

“I do! Look at us!” He separated from the hug to gesture between them. “I don’t know why everyone keeps saying it, but I don’t look a day over thirty!” 

Rose shook with laughter. His face may change, but he was at his hearts fundamentally the same. 

“Well never mind that, Doctor. You’re trying to change the subject. You need a companion. Someone to care for you and make sure you’re giving proper bedside manner,” she joked, leaning into him briefly to elbow him gently. 

“Ah. I’m getting old Rose. I shouldn’t have even regenerated to this face.” He sighed. “I surpassed the number of generations a time lord should have. I feel it, Rose. I feel my end is nearing. Sooner or later, and mind you, it’s going to be sooner, I’m going to come across the adventure that kills me. And I’m going to die.” 

Rose shook her head. “Aren’t you going to try? To regenerate again?” 

“Rose. I’m old. And I’m terribly tired-“ 

Rose stroked his grey curls, a sorrowful look on his face. He leaned into her touch but looked away. 

“I understand,” Rose said, voice soft as anything. 

“I miss you,” the Doctor’s voice cracked. 

Rose leaned in further and kissed his cheeks. He was crying now. She tilted his head down and kissed his forehead before kissing his lips. The Doctor gasped and held her tightly. 

They parted, and breathed one another in, surprised that they could smell each other across the dimensions. 

“I love you still, Rose.” 

“Doctor…” 

“Sorry, I just needed to say it. I’ve held this love for you for a long time. I’ve loved many, and I will still love each one. I will still love you. But I fear I’ve carried this love, this grief, and this pain… for too long. I grow weary with it. I can feel my hearts tire. Rose, I’m so happy to see you one last time- oof-“ 

Rose pulled him into her embrace so tightly, unwilling to let go. But they both must. 

“I’m so sorry, Doctor. And I love you, you know that. I’ll always love you, in any form, and any dimension.” 

The old Doctor gave her a watery smile. 

“I know.” 

They sighed into one another, just holding one another for a few quiet minutes. 

When they at last part, the Doctor’s smile was wider. It was a familiar grin. 

“How’s my one-hearted doppelgänger doing? I bet he has to do mortgage.”

“Yes,” Rose laughed. “He does. We have two children, you know. I know it’s probably painful to hear that, never mind-“ 

“No, I want to hear about them,” he whispered. “You two must be very happy. It’s what I wanted. For you to be happy. Tell me about the children.” 

Rose wiped away stray tears and took a book out of her bag that she smuggled the old wine in. It was a photo album. She passed it to him, watching his smile widen in delight. 

The Doctor held it gingerly. He leafed through each page slowly, lingering over every picture. Sure enough, the two of them saw pictures of Rose, her Metacrisis husband, her family and their daughter, and her own two children. A boy and a girl. Absolute chaotic children. She loved them so dearly. 

Four and five years old, there was a likeness of Rose in them. They were both blondes. But there was also a likeness of her Doctor in them. Their eyes were brown as anything. It filled her heart with so much love and warmth to look in their eyes and see her dear Doctor. 

One picture that the original Doctor stared at for quite a while was one with his Metacrisis counterpart holding her son upside down, joyous as the stars, laughing as their child babbled and giggled. 

“I’m glad he’s happy too. The Doctor deserves a good happy life.” 

Rose laid an arm on his, “Yes, you do.” 

They looked at one another, and the Doctor rested his forehead against hers and flipped to the next page. 

They remained like that for the next four hours. Rose told him everything about her children and her life. The Doctor told her everything about his life. He told her about the companions after her. He told her about his adventures. They smiled against one another, healing at last. 

When the Doctor eventually faded away, her heart was full. And she knew without a doubt that the Doctor’s hearts were filled too. 

She had parted with a gift for him. They were lucky that the rift was so thin at the moment. The Doctor held the photo album like it was precious to him. Like he could live the life that filled the pages just by holding it. He even joked about living vicariously through Rose and the Metacrisis Doctor’s normal, human lives. 

Rose kissed him one last time, and he was like melted butter. 

She would not miss the photo album. She had every picture digitally saved. It was in better hands. And hopefully, the Doctor would be warmed by it. That he would want to live a life like it. To keep living. 

She could only hope. 

Rose arrived at home, kissing her Doctor senseless (and breathless). 


End file.
